


starry-eyed

by cosmicqueer



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Creative License, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mental Health Issues, Out of Character, Sad gays, Smoking, Unspecified characters, Yikes, but really its just sad gays, i guess, is that a tag, kind of not really implied, probably, they are so cute together but this is so sad, u probably know who is who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7115776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicqueer/pseuds/cosmicqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you were as soft as barbed wire and i was willing to be cut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	starry-eyed

**Author's Note:**

> welcome every1 to this weeks episode of angst w alex enjoy ur stay. i regret so much

**star•ry-eyed** _adjective_ naively enthusiastic or idealistic; failing to recognize the practical realities of a situation

* * *

 

the winter snow was just beginning to melt, unearthing yellowed grass and frostbitten flowers whose leaves had wilted. unlike the seasons, books never changed, and i hid in between the science fiction and the young adult aisles. i was just as surprised as you looked when i said hello from the other side of the shelf; having noticed you earlier when you walked into the small, almost empty bookstore. your hair cascaded down your back in waves and your body curved in the way artists spent lifetimes trying to recreate on paper. i hoped it wasn't obvious that i was nervous.

discussing novels turned into trading numbers, which became long phone calls and endless messages. soon, those developed into _can we hang out today?_ and _would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow?_ and i would spend longer than necessary fixing my hair and choosing a dress. when it came time that people would decide what to call their relationship, you shrugged off my mention of it.

you: individuals often mask how they really feel by following what their relationship title entails. i don't want to fake things, not with you.

after speaking, you sipped from your coffee cup to wash away the taste of textbook words and elegantly dabbed at your lips with a cloth napkin, leaving behind a burgundy stain. you used the correct silverware and kept your elbows off the table. i tried to follow your example.

when i laid my head down to sleep that night, i dreamt of you spinning in the willow tree forest and chasing after your fairy feet. it was a raspberry dream filled with rose petal wishes; daisy chains and matching charm anklets and breezy lace gowns. our pink lipstick smeared as we kissed.

some days were incredible. we would take walks through the bustling downtown and taste every free sample the bakeries had to offer, then buy matching boots and kick them against the curb to break them in. when your fingers grazed mine for the first time, i turned my face away to hide my scarlet blush. we strode confidently down the sidewalk, past vibrant colors and flashing advertisements, past bubble gum girls and blue jean boys. inside a family diner one evening, you told me that i smelled of cinnamon and vanilla cookies. i confessed that you smelled like fresh rain and sunshine.

almost every night we would burst through your doorway in a mess of limbs and frantic hands and liquor breath -- yet not once had you ever kissed me goodnight, i realized. when you pulled out a cigarette i would swat it out of your grip before you could reach for your lighter. you'd smile and i'd laugh and everything would be right in the universe as we laid on your beige carpet and listened to the sounds of the busy street just outside your window -- the clicking heels of drag queens stumbling home after midnight, the crunch of flimsy tires rolling over broken glass and shattered dreams, and the corner store's flickering lights. your vinyl collection would lull us into slumber and our hands would find each other's, fingers slotted together when dawn broke. in the mornings, you were quick to untangle our hands and push me away with a gentler touch than the one i remembered from a few hours before.

some days were not so good. you would drink until you couldn't remember your last name, or how many packs of cigarettes you smoked that day, or the reason you had poured a glass of your favorite cherry vodka in the first place. when i came over i would wave my way through the haze of nicotine until i found you, tucked away in the closet or curled up under the bed. you'd either kiss my chapped lips until they went numb or scream angrily until your face lost its color. more often than not, i held you while your tears soaked my favorite shirts (which might've secretly belonged to you).

once, you dried your eyes and said that money was tight; i ran my fingers through the silky strands of your hair and said that you could come stay with me until it was worked out. by default, of course. if i had told you that the only reason you were broke was because you'd rather drink and smoke your cash than pay rent, you would've refused my offer. only six days later and my dishes were smelling oddly bitter and my blankets were smeared with ash that wouldn't wash out. my clothes became your clothes and your clothes became my clothes and soon they were just our clothes, smelling of ginger and summer and morning dew.

the seasons whipped around you – crumpled leaves and intricate snowflakes, sunburnt skies and piercing raindrops – as fleeting as your emotions. i could never guess your temperature.

every night was a sleepover so we painted our fingers glitzy colors that shimmered in the moonlight, golden glitter spilled across a midnight canvas. the white curtains whispered as we danced across the kitchen tile, hand in shining hand, bony knees brushing and foreheads touching. we curled up together under the safety of my quilt after our feet gave out beneath us.

me, whispering into the darkness of our bedroom: i love you.

your breath noticeably hitched, but my statement did not provoke any other response. until this moment, it had not yet hit me that you were as soft as barbed wire and i was willing to be cut for all the wrong reasons. instead of waiting for something that wouldn't come, i breathed in the heady scent of nail polish and let my eyelids sew themselves shut.

nighttime blurred with daytime as you soaked into my pores. i was dazed by your chaotic beauty. then, all at once, you faded away, like the colors of an old photograph. yours and mine suddenly had a line drawn between them, and if i tried to inch my way past it you hit me on the nose with a rolled magazine. i always ran away with my head down and tail tucked between my legs. soon, your clothing began disappearing from my closet and i found hidden boxes filled with your belongings.

i asked if you had figured out your money situation, fully intending to invite you to move in permanently. you shrugged daintily and continued folding a shirt that i did not recognize as your own. i asked if you had somewhere to stay, seeing as how you were preparing your things to be moved out. you said yes, but it wasn't your old apartment, it was this very-sweet-girl-you-had-met-the-other-day's flat. i did not ask any more questions after that, because a thirty second conversation turned our unlabeled thing into a nonexistent thing. the hollow feeling in my bones replicated the empty space i left behind as i turned and walked away.

the next time i returned from grocery shopping, i was welcomed home by a letter taped to the fridge telling me not to try calling because you had already changed your number. your new one was not written down.

now, when a record reaches its end, i cannot fall asleep to the static because it is useless white noise that pales in comparison to your voice. the ribbons of my corset tighten around my rib cage every time i notice that your blood-red lipstick left crescents on my towels. all of my coffee cups smell of vodka, and even bleach can’t erase what’s left of the cigarette ashes smudged onto my sheets.

in my dreams, you no longer twirl in soft silk and mossy forests. instead, you file your shimmering nails into talons, rip the stitching out of my skin, and claw the stars out of my eyes. i bleed tears and you smile, all razor-sharp fangs, before kissing me goodnight.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!! ur feedback is appreciated. this hurt 2 write


End file.
